If you've never met Kazeodori, then describing him would amount to a waste of time. It's like trying to describe a river, or luck, or chaos. But, if you really, really, really want to know what he is like, then…

Background

Of the Sasaki brood, not a day has passed where internal strife has not bared its scarred, pock-marked face. Though loyal to the Kazekage and to Sunagakure, those be but the two things which may cause the clan to set aside its differences. For endless days, has such strife carried on, with family fighting family over who will rule the Elder Council. Countless fights, beatings, and sometimes even murder have overwhelmed the clan, nearly to the point of self-annihiliation. Such lot as one's birth, however, cannot be said before it is: thus, was Kazeodori born into the clan of Earth and Wind.

Of a family traditionally following the Path of Wind, it was of no surprise that Kazeodori too was sealed into the airy path. There was no question, no wonder, no desire to even ask the boy of his wishes — as was his birth, so uncontrolled too was his station.

Kazeodori's mother and father, however, having lived through decades of internal strife, that they must know the distrust and conflict within one's own brood, to hate one's own blood, sought to relieve their son of such an unnecessary burden. Thus was he kept away, kept from interacting with the others of even his own Path, that he not desire the clumsy, useless hatred of his people. That he not know what it mean to truly be Sasaki. To do so, Kazeodori's father trained with him extensively, alone, beleaguering him to improve, to become hypersensitive to his ability, to be nothing other than his self, and the Wind. Kazeodori never knew what it meant to be ridiculed, or to be jealous of another, or to know what should or should not be said or done publicly; he never knew to build himself as part of his peers — no limits, no qualifications, no parameters were set: he, as perhaps few else, was nothing but himself.

It was not surprising, then, to witness the transformation of not only the boy's talent, but of his demeanor as well. The more days passed in the gentle breezes of summer, the more hours spent twisting through the howls of winter, the more minutes had to dance as the wind does on playful afternoons — thus, was Kazaodori. Perhaps, then, it makes sense that the boy is sometimes shy, sometimes playful, sometimes furious and hateful — and mercurial, above all.

Personality

Appearance

Of fluid nature arises fluid mien. Long robes of silken white - layer upon layer - are trimmed to the wrists and ankles of this youth, a stripe of royal blue hemming the edges without break. Black leather sandals twist and turn about his feet, insuring surety of step. A single arm is free of cloth; too bare flesh of half the chest. Bandages entwine all appendages, from knuckles to elbows and toes to ankles. The faintest of lavender locks fall along the shoulders and down the back, reflecting as a star does the night eyes black as pitch. Delicate features - a petite nose, thin lips, tucked ears - arouse as do the petals of a rose. Perhaps it is prepubescence which instills such an effeminate bearing, which draws this thin line of youth. Perhaps it is foolish to judge books by the cover.